


The Secret Keeper

by we_could_be_heroes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, post-DH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_could_be_heroes/pseuds/we_could_be_heroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good keeper of secrets Harry is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Keeper

 

It was strange seeing him like this. So weak and vulnerable, with his hair unceremoniously cut to allow access to the angry crimson wound that seemed to leak pus according to how intensely you looked at it. Harry took his eyes away, taking a deep breath and scanning once again the rail thin, surprisingly small body underneath the white sheet. Snape looked younger with the short hair, younger, but not better. His skin looked shiny and sticky with sweat coming from every pore, the effect of the gallons of healing potions and salves, stretched thin over the bones of Snape's face. There was a three-day's growth of black bristles on his cheeks, his lips more white than any other color, their thin line slightly parted. His eyes, mercifully, were closed.

And worst of all, there were shackles around each bony wrist, not unlike those on the Gringott's dragon, massive and old, emanating ancient magic, fastening Snape's hands firmly to the sides of the bed.

Harry was not ready for this. Would he ever be? He had been summoned by one of the Mungo nurses assisting in Hogwarts. Snape had apparently woken up and asked to speak with him. He did not look particularly talkative now, with the pasty skin and deathly look, and Harry willed him to stay so. He would wait for a moment longer and then inform the nurse, who was now flitting around another shackled patient - they were in the Voldemort supporter wing of the makeshift infirmary, though Snape's bed had been cordoned off from the others - that unfortunately, Snape was not awake anymore, and would she let him know once Snape was feeling up to speaking again. Hopefully not too soon. No need to overstrain the patient.

What did he even want to talk about? Ask Harry to vouch for him during the War Trials? _Of course, Professor, I have already spoken to Mr. Shacklebolt._ Kingsley Shacklebolt had already been elected acting Minister by the freshly formed New Coalition - and Harry felt a bit slighted, remembering it now, that no one had asked him to be a member of the latter or even consulted him on the former. He was the one who saved the day, after all ... and he _was_ almost eighteen.

"Potter." A raspy whisper.

Harry stepped closer to the bed, the possible replies a wild jumble in his head ( _It took us more than 24 hours, yes, but there was so much else to do. Yes, he really is. No, no, no, don't worry about that.)._

"I was surprised - to learn - that you were --- alive," Snape said. Awfully slowly and with obvious pain.

"Well, um, so was I. And surprised to find you alive too. Well, barely. Sir."

"The Dark Lord - is he truly-?

"Yes, dead. Definitely. We destroyed all the hor- all his links to this world. There will be no returning this time. He is finished. Gone. Dead as a doornail. " Harry cringed at himself. Snape still regarded him with the same strained look of effort to stay conscious, let alone talk, so perhaps he would not even remember much from this conversation. He now seemed to be gathering strength for another sentence, hopefully the last.

"I want to ask you - something. In return." In return for what? Harry almost blurted out, but luckily realized Snape probably meant, well, everything. From his point of view.

"Alright. Sure, anything you want - er, within reason. Sir." Intrigued by the unexpected turn of the conversation, Harry leaned slightly closer to Snape. What did Snape want? Insanely, Harry thought of offering him a chest of Galleons - a nice, smaller sized chest - or ... what could the man want? A new flat? An endless supply of potion ingredients? A house-elf (Kreacher would have to step up)? Or simply just _not to_ go to Azkaban?

"Keep it - a secret." Snape said.

"Keep what a secret?" Harry asked automatically. "Oh, you mean _that._ " In one instant, Harry went red. He could feel his cheeks burning. Well of course Snape would not want anyone to know that the reason for everything he did in the anti-Voldemort campaign was, as far as Harry knew,  his life-long obsession with a dead woman. It was _Snape_ , Snape the secretive overgrown bat, Snape, the mysterious dungeon crawler. Snape who no one really knew anything about. Before.

"Listen, I - " Harry began. "In my defence, I thought you were dead. Sir."

 


End file.
